


shelter

by hvllanders



Series: interwebs [5]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: (not explicit in story but that's what it deals w), Angst with a Happy Ending, Body Image, Domestic, Fat Shaming, Gay Ned Leeds, M/M, Ned Leeds Needs a Hug, Protective Peter Parker, Soft Peter Parker, interwebs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-30
Updated: 2019-06-30
Packaged: 2020-05-31 06:30:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19420384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hvllanders/pseuds/hvllanders
Summary: Here was the thing: Bad days didn’t really happen that much. Not anymore. But when they did happen, they were so hard to predict. One second, he’d be fine, laughing with Peter about how much sugar he dumped into his coffee, the next, someone would shove to get past him, and he would have that familiar bitter tang in his mouth. "I take up too much space in the world." And his whole day would be ruined then. For nothing.***In which, Ned struggles to love himself and Peter tries to help.





	shelter

**Author's Note:**

> tw for body image issues/light mentions of discrimination against larger bodies. take care of yourself and feel free to message me if you ever need to talk <3

It wasn’t supposed to be a bad day.

It wasn’t supposed to be a bad day, it was supposed to be a good day, and he was going to royally ruin it. Had already royally ruined it. These days were precious, they were sacred. It was hard enough being in a long distance relationship at the ripe age of nineteen- with Peter at MIT and him at ESU and both of them being just too smart for their own good which meant striving hard for grades and trying to fit in and make new friends while still maintaining relationships back home and finding new extracurriculars (or, in Peter’s case, continuing old ones) while still squeezing in visits with each other every so often. Needless to say, their time together was rushed at best.

They were currently both sprawled on Ned’s bed, a tangle of limbs, sheets, and boy. It was supposed to be a good day, and for the most part, it had been. They had gotten up late and went downstairs to their favorite coffee shop, drinking in each other’s company in the way only people who have been apart for a while know how to do. They’d gone window shopping for few hours, one of Peter’s favorite pastimes. Ned wasn’t a big shopper himself, but he liked to watch Peter take in all of the outrageous New York displays. The way his face would light up in excitement when the window promised ‘MIDYEAR SALE INSIDE’ as he tugged Ned’s hand closer to the building.

Later, when their feet had grown tired and their coffee had turned lukewarm, they stumbled back to Ned’s bedroom for an afternoon nap. Peter had thrown open the windows, and the warm beginnings of a spring breeze trickled over them now, rustling papers and sheets. It was exhilarating to see New York beginning to pull herself out of the monotony of winter. Buds on trees and the promise of green covering the landscape once more.

Ned was pretending to still be asleep, trying to hold tightly onto the perfection of this moment. Trying not to make it a bad day, because it had already been so much of a good day. Peter was curled beside him, one leg thrown over both of his. Peter slept with his socks still on, which Ned found simultaneously appalling and endearing. He was tracing fingers from Ned’s collarbone up his neck, over his chin, lips, up the slope of his nose, between his eyes, to his forehead, then back down again. A hypnotizing rhythm. Ned wanted so badly for it to lull him back to sleep.

Peter’s voice broke through his reverie. “Ned.” He must not have been as convincing of a fake sleeper as he had thought. “What’s wrong?”

Ned breathed out, considering.

Here was the thing: Bad days didn’t really happen that much. Not anymore. But when they did happen, they were so hard to predict. One second, he’d be fine, laughing with Peter about how much sugar he dumped into his coffee, the next, someone would shove to get past him, and he would have that familiar bitter tang in his mouth. _I take up too much space in the world_. And the pit of dread would trickle its way down his throat, acid burning through to settle in his stomach. And his whole day would be ruined then. For nothing.

But today wasn’t supposed to be a bad day, today was supposed to be a good day, no, it _was_ a good day, and he _was_ happy beneath it all, he was sure of it, he wouldn’t lie, not about this, so he opened his eyes and tried to summon some sense of sincerity before saying, “Nothing’s wrong. I’m lying in bed on a Saturday, procrastinating my Physics homework and snuggling with my boyfriend. It’s almost too idyllic to be true.”

Peter’s lips tugged at a smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “You don’t have to tell me, if you don’t want to.”

Ned sighed, harder this time, pushing all the air out of his lungs in a long _huff._ “I just…”

He looked back over at his boyfriend, his goofy, devoted, too-good-for-his-own-good boyfriend who had driven for hours to be here, who loved him and bought him flowers and knew how he liked his coffee (maximum cream, minimal sugar). Peter was just so…easy. Easy to love. Easy to share life with. And though Ned knew Peter had his fair share of demons, it seemed stupid to talk about some of his own. Especially today of all days. A good day.

There was a part of him that considered kissing Peter (for his lips were extremely kissable) and trying to convince him to go back to sleep. But his boyfriend was silent, just waiting, fingers still making their slow pattern up and down. He wouldn’t let this go unless Ned really wanted him to.

So, Ned took a deep breath, and didn’t dare to look Peter in the eyes as he spoke- that’s how big of a coward he was. “I guess, sometimes I think about how I could never be Spider-Man.”

Peter frowned, eyebrows pulling together. His fingers paused on Ned’s forehead. “What do you mean?”

It had sounded even more stupid when Ned said it out loud, and he immediately regretted it, flushing. “I mean, I don’t mean like I _want_ to be Spider-Man necessarily or anything.” He felt so foolish, backtracking. “I know, I know you like doing it okay and everything but that it’s super hard and scary and you’ve done and seen a lot of tough stuff, I more just…” He took another breath, and felt his resolve rush out of him, shame creeping back in. He reached up a hand to cover his eyes. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

“Hey, hey.” Peter’s hands touched his fingers, but he didn’t try and pry them away. “Listen, if you need to cover your face to tell me what you need to tell me, that’s okay. But don’t keep things bottled up, alright?”

So, Ned just said it all in a rush, all stupidly at once: “Do you think if the spider had bitten me, it would have made me skinnier?”

There was a long silence. So long, Ned pulled his hands away from his eyes to take in Peter, to watch him breathe out a short, “What?”

But he couldn’t repeat it.

Peter’s face shifted into something murkier, more troubled. His fingers twitched on top of Ned’s, but they didn’t move as they had before. “Why would you say that?”

Ned huffed a laugh, because at least this had an easy answer. “When was the last time you saw a superhero looking like me?”

Peter’s frown deepened. “Ned-”

“It’s not…” Ned sighed. This made him feel so tired. Like he was eighty rather than nineteen. “Listen, I just shouldn’t have said anything at all. I’m ruining the little time we have to spend together. Let’s forget it. It’s fine.”

“It’s not fine,” Peter whispered, shifting so that he was sitting up in bed. His back was pressed up against the headboard, fingers staying tangled in Ned’s. “I didn’t know this was bothering you. You…you haven’t talked about it in a while.”

Ned shrugged, turning so he was facing Peter’s legs, wrapping a hand around his ankle. Felt Peter’s pulse fluttering beneath his fingers. “It’s not something that always bothers me. Not that much anymore. It’s just…sometimes I just think about how it all makes sense. Of course, I’m the sidekick.” He focused on the hairs curling around Peter’s ankle. “No one wants to see me in spandex.” He pulled on a hair lightly, watching Peter twitch in response.

“Ouch. You bastard.” Peter slapped his hand away. “And you know that’s not true. I’d love to see you in spandex.”

“Yeah.” Ned smiled, and it only felt half-forced. “I’m sure you would.”

“I _would_. But that’s not what this is about, is it?”

Ned let out a long sigh. It felt like he was always sighing. “No.”

Peter’s hand traced back into his hair, tickling along his roots. Ned closed his eyes, leaning into the touch, and Peter’s voice was quiet, a murmur just for him. “Babe.”

For a few moments, there was nothing but the sound of their breathing and the city white noise of New York streaming by outside the open window. People going about their lives, unaware of what Ned felt. Uncaring. Probably had never considered the deep insecurity he had always felt in his body. How lucky. Or maybe he was just foolish.

He kept his eyes closed, content with letting Peter run his fingers through his hair forever. There wasn’t anything to be said that hadn’t been said before. He hoped, as he often did, that Peter could telepathically know his struggles, understand his feelings. And, in some ways, he could. There was that kind of unspoken connection shared between two people who had been dating for four years and had known each other even longer. There was a _knowledge_ that came with those years, a deep knowing of the other person.

But still. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t good to keep things bottled up. It wasn’t fair to make Peter guess.

So, Ned opened his eyes. And he spoke.

“I still feel it sometimes. That- the _hatred_ for myself. That I’m somehow wrong in being who I am. In being as big as I am. That my body is incorrect for being the way it is.” He shifted so that he was sitting up now, side by side against the headboard with Peter. “And it sucks because like, most days, I’m cool, I’m fine, I’m great. But some days, like today, I’m just reminded that the world doesn’t accept me for who I am. And no matter how much work I do inside, internally, no matter how much time and effort I put in, there’s still just so much goddamn work in keeping it all together because I know I’m not accepted outside. I know people are going to look at me and judge me. And some days, it’s just fucking hard.”

He couldn’t look Peter in the eyes after saying this. They had spoken, of course, about his size before. Peter had stood up to Ned’s bullies just as many times as Ned had defended “Penis Parker.” But he didn’t know if he had ever stated his feelings this plainly before. It felt shameful. It felt liberating.

Peter’s voice was measured as he leaned against Ned, shoulder to shoulder. “I see how it would be hard.”

“It’s like…” Ned trailed off, waiting for the right words. But they would never come. Imperfect would have to do. “It’s hard enough to love yourself all the time in all the days. And some days it’s harder than others, maybe even impossible. But what makes it worse is the knowledge that I can’t…I can’t look outward for that support. I only find judgement.”

“Not everywhere,” Peter said softly, squeezing his hand. “Not everywhere.”

Ned bowed his head. “You’re right, I know it’s stupid, it just feels like the odds are stacked three thousand to one sometimes and-”

“No, no no,” Peter’s words came out in a rush, and he shifted so he was in front of Ned, face on, so the boy was forced to look at him. “I wasn’t invalidating what you were saying at all. I know I have no idea what you’ve experienced, or what constantly hearing those messages must feel like. I just want you to know that you have me.”

Ned flushed as if this was their first date. “Thanks.”

Peter kissed the top of his head. “I love you, Ned Leeds. I love your goofy sense of meme humor and I love how you always know what I really want to order from DoorDash and I love how you save worms on the sidewalk. I love how you’ve been determined to make this relationship work despite everything, and I love your body. I love your smokin hot body. Just how you are.”

Ned leaned into his touch, needing the closeness.

“And I know it’s not enough for me to tell you. Because you need to believe it for yourself. This world may be a bitch to people who are different, but she’s learning, and she’s trying, and there are people out there like you and me who are gonna change it all for the better. But until that time, when it seems like it’s all against you, I’ll be there. Everyday. For a reminder, if you need it, or just a hug.”

“I love you.” Ned shifted, pressing his face against Peter’s chest. He could feel Peter’s heart beating against his cheek, steady and strong. He closed his eyes and focused on it, the rhythm, the strength. “Don’t forget it.”

Peter’s arms curled tighter around his shoulders. “I love you too. Don’t forget it.”

“I think I’m just going to call today a truce.”

“That’s okay.”

Some days were hard. And imperfect. And even though it was meant to be a good day, it fell short. But he was here, in this moment, with his head on Peter’s chest, and everything was okay. Not perfect, but okay.

“Next time you feel the odds are stacked up against you, you just tell me,” Peter whispered, his voice quiet and full of strength in the way only Peter could convey. “I’ll make it three thousand to two.”

**Author's Note:**

> <3 you all


End file.
